


Subject to Change

by CowboyEnthusiast



Category: Il buono il brutto il cattivo | The Good The Bad and The Ugly (1966)
Genre: Angst, M/M, Slow Burn, Western, eventual angel eyes/blondie/tuco, eventually alot of stuff, hopefully?, if you could call it that right now
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-04
Updated: 2019-03-04
Packaged: 2019-11-09 04:02:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17994467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CowboyEnthusiast/pseuds/CowboyEnthusiast
Summary: Blondie had been alone for awhile.Sure he was never truly by himself for long, not by the definition of the word at least. But the connotation of the word, the essence; fit him perfectly. It didn’t really matter how many people he crossed lives with, the length of time he stayed and interacted with them, it didn’t matter.Some might suggest it's just in his nature, but he wouldn't place his bets on that. No, he just hasn't found the right people, or maybe he has, but not at the right time. People are subject to change, just has he is.So when he's given the chance to change from being alone to one who isn't, why wouldn't he take it.





	Subject to Change

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! I've always loved Sergio Leone's Dollar's Trilogy, and so I wanted to try my best in writing for something that I really enjoyed so much. I know it's a less popular fandom, but man oh man I don't really care, I just love those cowboys. I will try my best to continue this.
> 
> Have fun and thank you for reading!

Blondie had been alone for awhile.

Sure he was never truly by himself for long, not by the definition of the word at least. But the connotation of the word, the essence; fit him perfectly. It didn’t really matter how many people he crossed lives with, the length of time he stayed and interacted with them, it didn’t matter. It didn’t matter because eventually the end always came around. He’d leave as he came, with a minimum of words spoken, the few that are pressed out holds a false sentiment, then as stillness overtook wherever he found himself; he’d be gone in a slow trail of dust.

Blondie never really stuck with the same people for long. No matter how well or poorly he got along with them. He doesn’t easily form connections with individuals, so when he does, staying around would create the most sense. Yet, he knew he had to leave, it would be selfish to stay. He knew eventually trouble would find him or he’d make it himself.

Blondie would always cause trouble. No matter where he found himself, what name he went under, or in a matter of fact, anything else. He wouldn’t admit it. Why would he. It was something that was just in his nature. The limits were always pushed, not even stopping when he found himself in quite the unfortunate position. And even afterwards he would continue onward, testing his luck, not quite done until he has the upper hand again, a win in his back pocket. It was his nature to the simplest explanation. He would come out on top or die trying. 

So it surprised him when he found himself accompanying someone for longer than he thought he ever would. Blondie liked to think he didn’t know how or why they stuck together. But in the end he knew. They were opposites, yet on a very basic level they were one and the same, similar forces with different perceptions about them. Different sides, yet on the same coin. Something that he might have been looking for, not intentionally in anyway, but ending up stumbling upon. On top of that the two of them were able to go around, stir up some difficulties for the local law. Quick and swift antics that rewarded them both; with money and satisfaction.

Though the satisfaction did not always cover the creeping annoyance that crawled out. Slowly until it was unbearable. Grating in such a way that even when it wasn’t there; he could still feel it.

While it would be foolish to say they were not similar, that didn’t mean they were carbon copies of one another. Traits can be similar all day long, but that doesn’t deter oneself, one is much more a conglomerate of traits and actions. There might be a pretty good argument made that they are in the same line of work and derive the same pleasure from the same results of said work. Yet, an argument could also be made the other way. That they weren’t and that they didn’t. They were different individuals, both just happen to share some unlikely attributes  
And try as they might, they seemed destined to keep finding each other. Even after one tries to lose the other or put them up for dead.

Sure, they were similar. But a key defining morale left them different. Tuco and Blondie, two outlaws, sure that could be said, two out to make some money doing some acts looked down upon from the law. Yet one enjoyed the sound of his own voice often enough while the other found that joy in silence every now and then. One like to reflect quietly, focus on one task for long enough before moving on, decisions made through calculated ideas. The other seemed to believe that all silence needed to be filled, half-cooked ideas mixed with fully fleshed out one raced through his head as his lips carried on with meaningless words to all but himself.

So when push came to shove, Blondie would push. The droning sound of Tuco going off and on about anything that drifted through his mind, how he was a true mastermind, or how he was the central key in all this, or even the simplest of things like the weather or cigarette prices. It was too much, Blondie couldn’t hear his own thoughts, close his eyes with picturing whatever nonsense Tuco was spouting on about. And besides that, while he would love to admit it, he wanted Tuco to leave him alone, and just go.

Don’t get him wrong, he knew he couldn’t trust him. No, he couldn't. He knew he could and would try his hardest to sell him out or worse if given the chance. It doesn’t help that also gives way, pushes his hand towards the choice of leaving, towards solitary in crowded towns.

He would be alone again, and he’d hate to; yet love to deny that, he didn’t want that. It felt nice to have someone by his side, someone that would , no matter how begrudgingly, go along with his plans to cheat the law from their money. But he had to also admit, he needed some semblance of silence.

Tuco’s showboating was starting to frustrate him. His constant voice in his ear was starting to deeply frustrated him. He just needed moments where his thoughts weren’t drowned out, just needs a moment to think clearly. But he also didn’t necessarily want to leave, no matter how strange and annoying, company again.

It is strange to enjoy company of a man you cannot trust.

Blondie does end up leaving, in a way. Throwing in theatrics of his own, something else that was just as part of his nature as causing trouble was. Leaving Tuco in a desert, miles away from the nearest town, seemed fitting all in the same way it felt unfitting.

He tried for a bit to; in a way- in a way he’d never say aloud or consider for long inside his own head- that he tried to replace Tuco, find someone else that he could partner up with, scam the people with a hanging ending short, find some company in someone he felt he would be more inclined to enjoy it with. But that didn’t last long, and he would hate to confess it; but he was a bit grateful when it did end. 

You can’t just replace something that worked so well, matched on a level you couldn’t even think of addressing, flaws and all, it couldn’t be forcefully replaced with something that you though could fit, or work better with. No you couldn’t do that without thinking about the other that you thought you could replace. You can’t just replace someone like Tuco and hope that he goes quietly into that good night.

And after all is said and done, both of them tried to get rid of the other, yet but some force always stopped things from going to some irreversible place of damage, and of course Tuco went pretty far and almost succeed in getting to that place, and if he meant for it to get there or not, Blondie would place his bets on that he did intend. And for some reason he was content with that. He knew what he signed up for when he first partnered together. 

And Tuco had to know what he signed up for too. Blondie always left with the upper hand, a win. One last show to make it clear just what his nature is. To cause some distribence, some grand gesture of showing off a bit. To show that in any moment he would come out on top. To in his own way; follow his own morale, some would consider him good, some would consider him bad. But in the end- he always won.

And to be honest, he doubted this would be the last time they saw each other. And that in its own way lifted a weight off his shoulders he didn’t know he was carrying.

The third party on the other hand; while he stopped moving, Blondie was a betting man, but he wouldn’t even place anything on that outcome. He could live he could die, Blondie wasn’t quite sure which way it would go. He seemed as hard to kill as the rest of them.

Blondie, had in a way, did like the company Angel Eyes provided. Someone he felt he could deal wits with. Someone just as untrustworthy as Tuco, someone that was just as similar to himself as Tuco was, someone would didn’t seem to have the need to talk quite so much about nothing.

There is always such a ring around when they talked. It was exciting, but at the same time; exhausting. Sometimes a little part of him just wishes they could talk straight and not have to say something and have it mean something else and have the other recognize that it does mean something different. Though, he would also have to say; that he didn’t necessarily always hate the little dance they do with their word play.

So thats why, he wouldn’t be surprised if he saw him again, wouldn’t necessarily unwelcome it. He just hopes they’re on a bit better terms.

And as he rode off, he could help but have a ghost of a smile on his lips. A strange realization that he found some dangerous, untrustworthy people, to make him feel not so alone. 

 

-

 

The town was like all the rest. In all familiar aspects it really was. Small, with one main street splitting building to either side. People were going about their day, moving in and out of the shops and businesses. No one had paid much mind when he arrived. Trailing in dust from the hooves of his horse, some heads turned but there was only a faint sense of alarm within their eyes as the horse got close to them, mysterious rider heading into their town. 

He stopped outside a saloon, quite really the best place to find anything of interest. If it wasn’t there, then at least the information for the nearest one would be. 

It was as loud as you think a well run saloon would be. A popular place no matter the time of day for those society sees as undesirable, crooks or dead beats, with a good mix of those who are having a bad day or a simple trip for pleasure.

Blondie waded through the sea of patrons, making his was to the bar. Ordering a glass of whiskey, and then sitting there, letting conversations wash over him, listening closely to anything that catches his interest. 

There was an unhappy marriage, a sizeable debt from a family that makes some poor financial decisions, a dog died.

Things that he really, truly had no business in, no gain to be had. He was about to leave until he heard a hushed back and forth turn to into a full blown argument. A table in a far off corner carried a heated discussion if one call it that. One young woman standing up with enough force to knock her chair backwards as she continued to verbally fight with the man seated in front of her. Blondie found himself leaning closer to try and glimpse a fragment of their conversation.

“And I’m telling you it ain’t enough!” the woman spat, hands planted on the table, staring the man in the eyes with such vigor behind hers.

“And I’m telling you there ain’t much more I can do. Listen I don’t like the Vanhel’s as much as the next-”

“Not as much as me? Not as much as me! You can’t even possibly fathom what I’ve been put through by their hands! You have the audacity to-” The woman was interrupted by the man, raising his hands and pointing aggressively at her.  
“Now listen here ma’am!” For the first time since stepping into this saloon, Blondie finally hears the man speak louder than anybody else having a normal conversation.”I have done as much as I have been permitted to do, and now I have put up with quite enough. I do not take kindly to this public insult you have thrown at me, especially from a woman no less! So I will take no more of this disrespect! I have done all I can.” and with that that man swiftly rose from his seat, and left.

The woman was left with a look of shock, slowly morphing into one of anger and disgust. Straightening her back as she stood at the table, a spilled drink dripping onto the floor. There was only a moment of silence, then the saloon erupted back into its chaotic and noisy environment. She stood there in disbelief, true and utter rage building within her. The raw emotion of someone who has truly been wronged in a cruel and unjustified way. The feeling of helplessness fading into one of action, action that wouldn’t go on ignored.

Blondie finished his drink and was about to move over to the woman. His interest peaked, trouble was surely about, and he couldn’t help but feel some sympathy and to a lesser degree pity for the woman. Though she didn’t seem like the woman to take pity kindly, so he wouldn’t give it to her. She seemed stronger than most would care to admit, but even the strongest needed help from time to time, and felt as though if he didn’t offer his particular serve of- taking care of troubling individuals, she would take matters into her own hands, no matter how unprepared she was. He’d seen it far too much for his liking, knew about it from a personal level he didn’t care to dig too much into, not right now especially of all places, and frankly; never hopefully. Bury the past, that’s why he had none.

So he decided to try and save this woman from, in some form herself, but in another help her save herself. Not let her go down a road of bad emotions, unrest and the feeling of helplessness and pity. His mind made up, as he planned to move over and begin a conversation with this woman, a conversation to which he’d be frank about his shallow intentions, and discrete with his deeper ones, ones she didn’t need to know for then she’d most likely deny the job to him entirely. She would be willing to pay and Blondie would make it seem as though that has been what he’d been after the whole time, no real care for her and her situation. She didn’t need pity, she needed action.

And then there was Tuco. He stood in his peripheral, his form blurry and unfocused as Blondie stared ahead. Blondie could feel the cold metal of Tuco’s mismatched gun pressing haphazardly into his temple, the smell of gunpowder, whiskey, and a faint trace of day old soap. Breathing heavily in his ear, Blondie acting as though he simply wasn’t there. As though he’d been expecting this; because in a way- he had been. He’d knew eventually he would find him, not like he was hiding though, and either he came here to attempt to kill or he wasn't. It was as black and white as that.

“Hey Blondie” Tuco said in his ear, not in a way you’d talk in anyone’s ear, it was loud like he was talking to someone across the table from him. “Long time no see, eh?”

Blondie took a sip from his drink, eyes not looking at Tuco, aimed straight ahead.

“Oh C’mon, cat’s got your tongue? This is not a way you greet an old friend?” Tuco said, giving Blondie’s shoulder a small nudge.

“Who said we’re friends?” Blondie finally answered.

“Oh, Blondie you wound me!” Tuco mocked, the gun moving lazily against Blondie’s temple as he shifted, “Of course we are friends, no? Think of all we've been through!”

“I guess so.”

“You guess, I know. Now I say it’s been such a long time since we’ve had a chance to catch up, eh? I think we should move to someplace more private to have a discussion, no?” He pressured his gun harder into Blondie’s temple to show emphasis.

“No. I’m kinda in the middle of something right now.”

“Oh Blondie, I don't think you get to be making such decisions right now,” The gun clanked against his head again, “It wasn’t a suggestion, now c’mon.” Tuco’s free hand gripped Blondie’s arm, shoving him from his chair, harshly guiding him towards the door as Blondie gave one last glance towards the woman sipping the drink, mostly empty from the time it spend on its side. Blondie halfheartedly be dragged out of the bar, not quite one to cause an unneeded fuss in such a public place, though it didn’t stop people from glancing at them before seemingly to decide to mind their own business.

The sun was setting as they emerged onto the street. Most everyone was heading home, not needing any more excitement in their day. Blondie decided to stop letting Tuco drag him to wherever he was planning to take him, if he even had a plan at all. Tuco kept going until he was met by the resistance of Blondie no longer moving. Skidding to a stop beside him, gun pressed against his neck. Blondie giving him a look as though this wasn’t that big of a deal. Tired looking, the eye roll without the actual rolling of the yes. Tuco looking a bit bewildered at first and then forming an all teeth grin, showing annoyance and that he was willy to play this game for only a little while longer before he snapped or did something unpredictable to everyone, everyone except for Blondie. He wouldn’t say it, but he did feel a bit of pleasure knowing he could read Tuco like an open book. And he knew they could do this little game, riling each other up and pushing the limits till one of them breaks (most likely Tuco, let's be honest), for only so much more until they broke that restraint that held them back from just the simple vex.

But they didn’t really get to test that limit because as soon as they were about to get into the thick of it, a figure appeared on horseback at the end of the street, grabbing their attention as it moved towards them, setting sun at it’s back.

As the figure got closer, Blondie found himself smirking, for a figure such as that, He wouldn’t ever forget who it belonged to. For that figure belonged to a man he last saw laying in a grave, two holes sluggishly losing blood from bullets that he shot, he who if anyone would live through that, would be him. Angel Eyes.


End file.
